


You Can Touch Me With Slow Hands

by poetzproblem



Series: Don't Blink [39]
Category: Glee
Genre: Anniversary, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Romance, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:54:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21853279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetzproblem/pseuds/poetzproblem
Summary: There is something that Rachel might like that Quinn has been thinking about for a few months now. She doesn't think about it constantly—or, really, even very often—but the idea has popped into her head a time or two, mostly when she's in the middle of ravishing her delectable girlfriend with the little toy that Rachel had convinced her to try and seems to enjoy so thoroughly.
Relationships: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray
Series: Don't Blink [39]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/20608
Comments: 5
Kudos: 108





	You Can Touch Me With Slow Hands

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Note:** Number 39 of the _Don't Blink_ series set after _I Can Put On A Show_. Mostly smut with a side of fluff and a smidge of plot.
> 
> I'm not overly pleased with it, but since it's Rachel's birthday, I figured I'd go ahead and post something.
> 
> Unbetaed so all mistakes are my own.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own _Glee_ or the characters. I just like to play with them…strictly non-profit.

_You can touch me with slow hands_  
_Speed it up, baby, make me sweat_  
_Dreamland_  
_Take me there 'cause I want your sex_  
_If my body had a say_  
_I wouldn't turn away._  
_~Body Say, Demi Lovato_

* * *

"I can't be an unemployed actress, Quinn!"

The desperate lament is punctuated by Rachel collapsing sideways across their sofa with a dramatic flourish. "I was nominated for a Tony! I won a Drama Desk for _West Side Story_!" Her hands flail through the air in agitation. "Someone should want to cast me!"

"Someone will, sweetie," Quinn assures her, sinking down next to her girlfriend. She reaches over to pat Rachel's leg in comfort even as she silently curses Evelyn Richardson for ruining their perfectly nice breakfast with the news of yet another lost role, but Rachel is far too talented to be overlooked for very long. "Maybe you'll get that workshop you auditioned for last week."

"Maybe," Rachel echoes with a sad, little shrug. "The composer did make a point to compliment my exemplary vocal range," she adds, perking up marginally.

"What's it about again?"

Rachel's eyebrows furrow adorably. "I'm not really certain. The book is still pretty rough. That's why they're doing the workshop. But the song they had me audition with certainly had potential."

Quinn will have to trust her opinion on that. Personally, she thinks the writer (or composer—whatever) should know the story they're telling before they set it to music, but that's probably the English major in her being nitpicky. She's well aware that musical theater doesn't necessarily follow any logical rules. She's still amazed that _Cats_ had run as long as it had.

She pats Rachel's leg again. "Well, you'll get something soon." They aren't just empty words. Rachel's success is the one thing that Quinn has always been certain of.

Rachel gazes at Quinn with a grateful smile, leaning closer to her. "Are you still okay with being my sugar mama in the meantime?"

Quinn laughs. "Absolutely. As long as you keep up your end of the bargain."

Rachel frowns slightly. "I wasn't aware that I had an end."

"Oh, you do," Quinn tells her with a serious nod before trailing her fingers along the inside of Rachel's thigh, encountering nothing but soft, smooth skin thanks to the sexy, little shorts that her girlfriend is currently wearing. She lets her gaze rake over Rachel's body with obvious appreciation, making her meaning abundantly clear. "It's a pretty sweet end too, if you ask me."

Rachel sucks in an audible breath, eyes widening. "Quinn Fabray! Are you expecting me to compensate your monetary genorosity with sex?" she asks in mock affront..

Quinn quirks an eyebrow. "You got a problem with that?"

She watches Rachel's lips curve into a coquettish grin. "Not in the least," she purrs, turning seductive in a heartbeat. Her eyes dart to Quinn's mouth, blatantly advertising her intent before her lips follow through, and she kisses Quinn with an enticing mixture of sweet and sultry that has Quinn barely suppressing a moan.

She can feel those luscious lips curve against her own—a clear sign that Rachel is completely aware of the effect she has on her girlfriend—and her fingers sink into Quinn's hair as she presses closer, nearly managing to find her way into Quinn's lap. Quinn is very tempted to let her continue her seduction, but—

"As much as I'd love to collect on my compensation right now," she husks after finally summoning the will to tear her mouth away from Rachel's welcome assault on her senses, "one of us actually needs to go earn a paycheck for this arrangement to work."

Rachel pouts at her, slumping back against the sofa in dejection. "I _wish_ I was earning one."

"I know, sweetie," Quinn soothes with a sympathetic smile, lifting a hand to gently brush a strand of dark hair away from Rachel's cheek. It's a proven fact that Rachel despises being idle. Her seemingly unlimited supplies of energy and passion need a task to focus on or she goes more than a little stir crazy. "I'm only teasing." She wishes she could just stay home with Rachel and make her feel better with a little tender loving care, but she really does need to go to work today. "I love you, current extended sabbatical and all."

Rachel sighs, returning her smile. "I love you too." Her eyes sparkle as she reaches for Quinn's hand, entwining their fingers together. "You know, it will be a year on Friday since we first said those words to one another."

"I'm aware," Quinn responds, warm contentment suffusing her very being. The last year with Rachel has been the happiest of her life, and the date when everything between them had changed is permanently etched in her heart and mind. (And not just because the first of June is a very easy date to remember.) She doesn't think she'll ever forget a single moment of that perfect afternoon in the park, their first kiss, or the evening they'd spent in Quinn's apartment, confessing their feelings and—well, getting a head start on making up for a whole lot of lost time.

"And I'm sure you're also aware that I take anniversaries very seriously," Rachel informs her with every bit of that seriousness coloring her expression.

Quinn grins indulgently. "I had a feeling you might."

Rachel nods, pulling their still joined hands into her lap where she proceeds to draw soft circles on Quinn's skin with her thumb. "I want to do something special for you." she says sweetly, doing a fairly impressive job of batting her eyelashes.

Feeling mischievous, Quinn lets her grin transform into a smirk. "Are you going to dig into that bag of animal sweaters we brought back from your dads' house?" Another encounter with Rachel in all of her former teenaged glory would be _very special_ for Quinn. She'll even put on her cheerleading uniform again if Rachel wants her to.

"No," Rachel dismisses with a roll of her eyes. "I mean, I could," she reconsiders with a thoughtful tilt of her head before a wide smile takes over her face. "But I thought I'd make a special anniversary dinner for you first."

Quinn's eyes widen. "No. Don't do that." Rachel has burned multiple food items, melted two spatulas, bent a soup ladle, and somehow lost an entire set of measuring cups since they'd moved in together, and that's in addition to all the damage she'd wrought on the kitchen in Quinn's old apartment. Rachel's eager smile instantly disappears at Quinn's hasty objection, making Quinn feel like a total bitch, so she quickly attempts to rectify the situation. "I was planning to take you out for dinner. A date night." It's not even a lie. She has every intention of treating Rachel to a nice, romantic evening out in celebration of their first year as a couple—tentatively at the Candle Café, where they'd had their first official date.

"I think I should be insulted," Rachel grumbles with a suspicious look, releasing Quinn's hand.

"Come on, Rach," Quinn entices with a seductive smile. "You don't really want to cook on our anniversary." And Quinn certainly doesn't want her to cook. Rachel might be getting marginally better in the kitchen, but her culinary adventures still require far more of a cleanup effort than Quinn would generally prefer. Even with Rachel currently at home, it's still easier (and much less stressful for both of them) for Quinn to make them dinner at the end of her workday—or for Rachel to just order takeout.

"I actually do," Rachel insists stubbornly. "You do almost all of the cooking for us, and I know I'm not as skilled in the kitchen as you are, but I really want to make you a nice meal and take care of you the way you always take care of me." She sounds so hopeful, and the sweetness of her intention makes Quinn feel warm and fuzzy inside. "I found a really easy recipe in the vegan cookbook I bought. No stoves required," she promises eagerly, pressing one hand over her heart and holding up the other in emphasis.

Quinn purses her lips in consideration, biting back a smile as she comes to the obvious conclusion. "It's a salad, isn't it?"

"No," Rachel quickly denies. Quinn doesn't believe it for a minute, and she knows her expression says as much when Rachel sighs dejectedly. "Okay, yes. A Mediteranen chickpea salad," she finally admits, once again pouting adorably. "I thought it sounded good."

"It does," Quinn agrees with a soft smile, reluctantly letting go of her plan to take Rachel out to a restaurant. "You're very skilled at salads." They're the only meals that Rachel has successfully managed without incident—or a major mess for Quinn to clean up.

"I'll get better with other things too," Rachel vows. "I just need to practice."

Quinn doesn't know if their kitchen will survive that, but, "We'll work on it." She glances at the clock, cringing at the time. "But I really need to get going now." She should have left at least five minutes ago to miss the worst of the morning rush. It's probably too late for that, but if she gets her ass moving right now, she should still make it to work on time, so that's exactly what she does, uncurling from her comfortable position on the sofa.

Rachel stands up with her, clearly reluctant to let her go. "I suppose someone has to bring home the metaphorical bacon."

"And the literal bacon," Quinn adds with a grin, reaching for her briefcase. "I think we're running low."

A predictable grimace works its way across Rachel's face, and she wrinkles her nose in distaste. "That's one thing I will never cook for you."

"Since I prefer my bacon to taste like bacon and not charcoal, that's probably a good thing," Quinn declares on a chuckle.

Rachel huffs indignantly, giving Quinn's shoulder a playful push. "Stop maligning my cooking skills and go to work."

Laughing again, Quinn catches her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze as she ducks down to place a kiss to Rachel's cheek. "See you later, sweetie."

Seemingly appeased, Rachel sends her off with a sweet smile and a, "Have a good day at work, baby."

Quinn endeavors to adhere to her girlfriend's request, but work is _work_ , and no matter how much she generally loves her job, there are always going to be parts of it that are more bad than good. Lately, she's been marching through her more tedious duties inspired by thoughts of coming home to Rachel, and today, there's also the question of what to do to mark their anniversary. She'd been serious about the date night, but Rachel's desire to 'cook' for her has taken that off the table, although she supposes they could still have their romantic date on Saturday. Maybe she'll try to snag some last minute tickets to the theater too—or maybe not. That might just make Rachel more upset about her currently unemployed status.

But there is _something_ that Rachel might like that Quinn has been thinking about for a few months now.

She doesn't think about it constantly—or, really, even very often—but the idea has popped into her head a time or two, mostly when she's in the middle of ravishing her delectable girlfriend with the little toy that Rachel had convinced her to try and seems to enjoy so thoroughly. Quinn hates having to admit that she kind of enjoys it too.

Well—it's not awful.

And what she can do to Rachel while she's wearing it has certainly done wonders to counteract her initial reluctance to use it. She still feels completely ridiculous when she straps it on, but she usually gets over that pretty fast once she gets Rachel underneath her—or, well, on top of her, or up against the wall, or bent over the table.

So it's probably not all that surprising that Quinn has grown just a little bit _curious_. After all, she's now intimately acquainted with what it feels like to wear the strap-on and exactly how much pleasure she can get out of the experience if she moves the right way. It seems only natural to wonder just what it is that Rachel feels on the other side of their encounters. She knows there's only one way to find out for certain. She just hasn't decided if satisfying her mild curiosity is worth putting herself in what would undoubtedly be a very uncomfortable position—for multiple reasons.

Rachel has never actually come out and suggested the possibility of reversing their roles with that particular item. She always seems happy enough that Quinn is willing to use it at all and even happier that she's voicing her own bedroom fantasies more often. Their little collection of _props_ (because Quinn is still reluctant to actually call them _toys_ ) has grown to include silk scarves, feathers, handcuffs, blindfolds, and a drawerful of plaid skirts, animal sweaters, and colorful headbands—those last ones courtesy of their recent trip back to Lima.

Quinn had asked Rachel, just once, if she thinks about taking Quinn the way she's oh-so-willing to let Quinn take her, but Rachel had resolutely reminded her that, "I promised you that I'd never ask you to do anything you aren't comfortable with, and I meant it. I'm more than happy to keep giving you the _personal touch_ that you prefer." And then she'd grinned wickedly before proceeding to demonstrate exactly the type of _personal touch_ that she'd meant.

Still, the question has stayed in the back of Quinn's mind as the months have passed and her love for Rachel has only grown deeper. They'd stumbled over a few emotional hurdles in those early days when they'd still be learning to trust one another, but now Quinn can honestly say that there is no one she trusts more with her heart and her body than Rachel Berry.

Rachel, who wants to make dinner for her—something that's very much outside of her general comfort zone—and take care of her. Quinn is going to let her, and maybe she'll let Rachel do something else that she really wants to do that's outside of Quinn's general comfort zone.

So on Friday, Quinn makes breakfast for them before she leaves for work, complete with an 'I love you' spelled out in blueberries on Rachel's vegan pancakes. She admittedly shortcuts the 'love' with a heart, but Rachel is still delighted by it.

Her workday feels like it drags on forever, and when five o'clock finally comes, Quinn is out of the office in a flash, making only one stop on the way home to pick up a bouquet of red carnations for Rachel. Technically, the flowers are meant for the first _wedding_ anniversary, but since they're supposed to represent young, passionate love, she feels like they're appropriate for this occasion as well. If things with Rachel keep going as wonderfully as they have been, Quinn might even be bringing these flowers home again someday for another, more traditional first anniversary.

Rachel skips out to greet her the moment she enters the apartment, her eyes lighting up when she sees the bouquet. "Oh, flowers," she gushes in delight, already reaching for them.

"A beautiful bouquet for my beautiful lady," Quinn says smoothly, passing the flowers for Rachel, who takes them with a pretty blush settling on her cheeks. "To mark our very happy first year together."

There's an almost bashful smile on Rachel's lips as she drops her nose into the bouquet to inhale the sweet scent of the carnations. "Thank you, Quinn," she murmurs happily. "They're lovely."

"Not nearly as lovely as you."

Rachel giggles at that, shaking her head. "You know, it's pretty much already guaranteed that you'll be getting lucky tonight. The cheesy pickup lines, while appreciated, aren't strictly necessary."

Smiling, Quinn slips her arms around Rachel's waist. "They're not lines, sweetheart. And we'll _both_ be getting lucky tonight if I have my way."

Rachel stares up at her with darkening eyes. "Well, lucky for you, I wouldn't dare stand in the way of Quinn Fabray getting what she wants."

" _Anymore_ ," Quinn qualifies, with a playful grin. "You used to do it all the time." A very predictable pout appears on Rachel's gorgeous face at the teasing reminder of the times she'd attempted to steal away Quinn's boyfriend and subvert her many, many questionable schemes, and Quinn can't resist placing a quick kiss on those frowning lips before murmuring against them, "But now the only thing I want is _you_."

Rachel's pout disappears, replaced by a tender smile. "You have me."

It's the only gift that Quinn will ever really need, and she expresses her gratitude with a loving kiss that's far more leisurely than the last. But soon enough, Rachel is urging her to go change into something more comfortable while she puts her flowers in a vase because, "Dinner will be ready as soon as you are."

So Quinn slips into their bedroom, already popping open the buttons of her silk blouse as she kicks off her heels. There's really nothing like stripping away the rigid confines of her business attire in favor of comfy loungewear and knowing that she's free from the office for an entire weekend. She definitely appreciates the opportunity to relax. Staying in for the night and letting Rachel make dinner really isn't such a bad way to spend their anniversary—well, assuming Rachel didn't try to get too creative with that salad.

Before she heads back out to collect on her gift from Rachel, she hastily turns down the sheets on their bed before checking the drawer where they keep their props to make sure the blue dildo and harness are front and center and ready to go. A flutter of apprehension races through her at the thought of what she intends to offer her girlfriend tonight, but she pushes it aside, focusing on Rachel and dinner and the simple joy of spending their evening together.

She finds Rachel at the table, pouring two glasses of their favorite wine. The salad is already neatly plated, looking fresh and flavorful, complemented by a basket of bread from the bakery three blocks over, a single lit candle in the center of the table, and the romantic music softly playing in the background.

"Happy anniversary, baby."

Rachel hands over a glass that Quinn takes with a content smile and an echoing, "Happy anniversary." They'd exchanged the same words this morning over breakfast, but it goes without saying that more is always better with Rachel. "This looks delicious," she comments, nodding towards the food on the table.

Rachel preens. "Wait until you taste it."

And because she is fairly hungry, Quinn sits down and does just that. The salad is an appetizing combination of cucumbers, chickpeas, bell peppers, and feta cheese, dressed with a lemon and parsley vinaigrette that Rachel had mixed herself. (She looks so proud when she informs Quinn of that fact. It's entirely too adorable.)

"This is really good," Quinn compliments, pleasantly surprised by how well the flavors work together.

"Thank you," Rachel murmurs with a pleased little grin.

"And kitchen-catastrophe-free," Quinn comments after a glance in that direction, smiling when she doesn't immediately notice any obvious messes in need of cleaning up. Rachel's grin disappears, and her eyes dart away tellingly, causing Quinn's own smile to slide into a suspicious frown. "Rachel?"

There's a noticeable wince before Rachel meets her questioning eyes with a sheepish expression. "I...may have broken one little bowl," she admits haltingly before hastily excusing it. "But we have five more of them. It's not like anyone will miss it."

Quinn shakes her head while that sinks in, amusement gradually taking over until she's laughing outright—because _of course_ there was _something_. "I really do love you." Despite all the havoc she routinely wreaks on their kitchen.

Rachel sighs, her embarrassed blush deepening as she gazes at Quinn with open affection. "I love you too."

The rest of dinner passes with idle conversation about mundane things, like Quinn's workday and Rachel's adventure at the market and their creepy downstairs neighbor who likes to hit on both of them whenever they pass him in the lobby. And they make tentative plans for the weekend over the vegan carrot cake that Rachel had bought for dessert.

Her baking skills greatly exceed her cooking skills by her own admission, but she's still much better with cookies than cakes. It continually amazes Quinn that her girlfriend's famous 'I'm Sorry' cookies are the one food item that never gets burned or spoiled. Rachel claims it's because of how much practice she's had at making them over the years. It's as heartwarming as it is heartbreaking.

Since Rachel had made dinner for them, Quinn volunteers to clean up. Rachel doesn't object. She disappears to let Quinn do the dirty work, and the speed of that disappearance might be somewhat irritating if she hadn't already mostly cleaned up after herself while she'd been making dinner. All Quinn really needs to do is put away the leftover salad and cake, wash the dishes, and wipe the table.

And when she's done, she tosses the towel onto the dishrack and pads into the living room to find Rachel waiting for her on the sofa with a wrapped gift on her lap. "Happy anniversary," she repeats once again, offering up the small package to Quinn.

Quinn takes it with a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. "You got me an actual present." She'd assumed that dinner was Rachel's gift to her, so she hadn't actually _bought_ Rachel anything other than the flowers.

"Well, obviously," Rachel responds as Quinn sits next to her. The expression on her face makes it clear that Quinn should have expected that _this_ is what Rachel meant by taking anniversaries very seriously. "It's nothing fancy or overly expensive. It's just," she trails off, gesturing to the gift with growing apprehension. "Well...just open it."

It's neatly wrapped in shiny pink paper, and the oversized bow is bedazzled with pink, plastic rhinestones. Quinn can't keep the amused grin from her lips despite her sudden guilt. She really _should_ have been expecting this. It's just so very _Rachel_. And because Rachel had obviously taken so much care with the presentation of her gift, Quinn takes equal care in opening it, gently removing the bow to keep before methodically parting the seams of the paper.

Inside, she finds, "A keepsake box." The lid is decorated with a colorful picture of Alice, the White Rabbit, and the Cheshire Cat.

"In honor of our first kiss," Rachel explains with a soft smile that Quinn instantly mirrors.

"It's perfect." And it is. Not only is it a reminder of the place where they'd shared their very first kiss, but it's always been one of Quinn's favorite childhood books. "I love it."

"I'm glad."

Rachel looks so pleased that Quinn likes her gift, which makes it even harder to confess that, "I didn't get you anything except the flowers." And the idea that she would let Rachel take her with their strap-on tonight, but now that just seems kind of—well, _cheap_. And possibly tacky.

"Oh. Well...that's...that's fine," Rachel dismisses weakly, clearly struggling to keep the disappointment off her face. "I mean, you're supporting me while I'm out of work. I suppose I shouldn't expect an extravagant gift."

She clearly does.

"I should have gotten you something else. I just thought..." Quinn lets the sentence trail off, only now fully considering that her plan for the rest of their evening isn't exactly the romantic anniversary gift that Rachel was probably expecting. She'll definitely make sure to give her something _tangible_ next year, but for now, she has to make do with what she's got. "Come with me," she urges, reaching for Rachel's hand as she stands up.

"Where are we going?" she asks in mild confusion, following Quinn up and into motion.

"You'll see," Quinn hedges, leading her toward their bedroom.

Rachel follows her wordlessly until they're actually across the threshold, where she quickly notices the turned-down bed. "Is sex my gift, Quinn?" she guesses, somehow managing to sound equal parts amused and unimpressed. "Because you know I love having sex with you, but it's not exactly the most creative anniversary present."

"Typically, I'd agree," Quinn concedes with a sigh, pausing to deposit the keepsake box on the dresser before tugging open the drawer and reaching inside. Her nerves kick up when she turns to look at Rachel. "But tonight I want to give you something that I've never given and will never give to anyone else."

Rachel's eyes dart down to Quinn's hand, and her eyebrows inch up. "That's our strap-on, Quinn. You've already given it to me. Multiple times," she points out, lips curling in amusement at her own double entendre.

Quinn barely resists the urge to roll her eyes. "I want you to wear it tonight, Rachel."

She watches the smirk on Rachel's lips fall away in stunned surprise. "You…?" Her eyes drop to the strap-on again, turning even darker when they come back up. "Really?"

Quinn gives a single nod. "I'm giving you my complete trust."

Rachel only stares at her for a long moment before she shakes her head. "Oh, Quinn...you...you don't need to do that."

Quinn's stomach bottoms out again for a completely different reason. "Do you not...want to?" She feels an unexpected sting of rejection at the possibility. .

"Oh, I want to," Rachel answers quickly, eyes still impossibly dark. "You have no idea how much I want to." And there's an unmistakable note of hunger in her voice that conveys the truth of that far more clearly than her words ever could.

"Then what's the problem?"

"I know you're not really comfortable with this level of penetration, Quinn." She gestures to the strap-on that Quinn is still holding. "I mean, it took you a while to even get comfortable _wearing_ it for me."

"And now I am," Quinn insists. "Getting more comfortable," she grudgingly amends at Rachel's mildly dubious expression. She sets the dildo and harness on top of the dresser next to her brand new keepsake box. "Look, I've been thinking about this for a while, Rach. I don't know if I'll really like it, but I know _you_ will, and I'm curious enough about how it might feel to try it." She cups Rachel's cheek tenderly, trying to convey how much she really does want to do this. "For you."

Rachel's eyelids flutter shut, and her lips curve into a slow smile. She reaches up to gently remove Quinn's hand from her cheek, bringing it to her lips to place a single, soft kiss to her knuckles. "You should have told me you were thinking about doing this. We could have bought a smaller one."

"Yeah, no," Quinn scoffs, rolling her eyes. "I'm not buying another one of those things just for...just for tonight." Because this may very well be the only time she'll ever agree to be on the receiving end of this particular bedroom activity. "I trust you, Rachel. I know you'll take care of me."

Rachel's smile turns wicked as she steps closer to Quinn, sliding her arms around her neck, and her voice drops into a husky purr. "Oh, baby. I'll take such _good_ care of you."

It's a promise that Quinn knows she'll keep—and Rachel seals it with a kiss. It starts out teasing but turns carnal in no time at all, and Rachel's hands begin to wander impatiently over Quinn's body. It's easy for Quinn to forget about her lingering trepidation with Rachel pressed against her so enticingly, and her girlfriend's growing arousal is almost palpable, which is a sure sign that she's warmed up to her 'gift' pretty quickly.

To her credit, Rachel doesn't immediately make a grab for the strap-on. She does, however, do a fairly impressive job of separating Quinn from her clothes. Quinn has very few objections, especially when Rachel manages to shuck her own clothes even quicker, but when she maneuvers Quinn onto the mattress with the clear intent of kissing her way down Quinn's body—well, Quinn wants to have some fun of her own before she lets Rachel take control of this particular venture. Driven by determination. she deftly flips their positions, topping her girlfriend with ease.

Rachel makes an unsuccessful attempt to reverse this unexpected development, but Quinn keeps her pinned to the bed with a triumphant grin. "Quinn," she whines with a pout. "You're supposed to be letting me take care of you."

"Patience, sweetheart. I want to thoroughly celebrate one year of having you before I let you have me." Because she has a feeling that this might turn awkward and uncomfortable—at least for her—and she wants to make sure they both have a more pleasurable memory before that happens.

Unfortunately, Rachel is getting a little too good at reading her, and her expression grows soft and concerned once again. "Baby, we can just make love tonight. We don't need any props."

Quinn loves her so very much right now, but, "There are no returns or exchanges on my gift, Rachel." Her words fall just shy of playful, though they come with a reassuring smile. "I just need you to let me do this first," she says far more seriously. "Getting you off is the ultimate aphrodisiac for me."

Rachel's breath hitches at the confession before her tongue pokes out to moisten her lips, and her body turns completely pliant beneath Quinn. "Well, in that case...please proceed."

So Quinn does, kissing her girlfreind's smiling lips and savoring the taste that she'd first had the pleasure of discovering exactly one year ago today—give or take a few hours. She remembers thinking then that it was the kiss she'd been waiting for all her life, and now she's had a thousand kisses that only keep getting better, and she's had the chance to taste every part of Rachel Berry hundreds of times over and discover that she's as sweet as her name implies.

It sounds ridiculously sappy and lame even in her own head, but it's the truth. Quinn loves to compare the subtle flavors on Rachel's skin from sweet to salty as she savors every inch of her body. Rachel certainly seems to love it too, allowing Quinn to indulge in another favorite experience of hearing the symphony of moans and gasps and whimpers that ring out in every volume and pitch of Rachel's impressive vocal range.

Quinn really wasn't lying about this being an aphrodisiac. She gets so incredibly turned on just from knowing that she can do this to Rachel—that she's allowed the unbridled privilege after so many years of _wanting_ —and when she sinks down, down, down to the most intimate part of her, she gets to taste exactly how turned on Rachel is by this too.

And then she gets to _feel_ it in the clench of Rachel's thighs around her head, the arch of her back off the mattress, the quiver of her walls against Quinn's tongue. She could happily do this forever—the tasting and the touching and the listening and the _feeling_ Rachel slowly come apart—but of course, it's only a matter of minutes before Rachel's body breaks beneath her, quaking in the throes of her release.

Quinn draws it out for as long as she can until Rachel is whimpering from overstimulation and weakly tugging at Quinn's hair to get her to stop.

She comes down slowly, panting for breath, and Quinn watches from between her legs with a satisfied smirk. "Just let me know when you're feeling up for part two."

It's a bold statement, considering what part two will entail tonight, but it's wholly inspired by the buzz of arousal that Quinn is currently experiencing and the high of sending her girlfriend over the edge.

"If...you're hoping...that you've...sufficiently exhausted me," Rachel rasps haltingly, narrowing her eyes on Quinn, "you really should...know better by now. I have...exceptional stamina."

Quinn chuckles. "Oh, I know. If that had been my evil plan, I'd have tied you up and used the feather." She knows from blissful experience that she could have easily given Rachel multiple orgasms with that until she'd pass out from sensory overload.

Rachel moans softly, closing her eyes. "That's not the toy you promised me."

"And I'm a woman of my word," Quinn vows, dropping a kiss on Rachel's belly before crawling up the mattress to lay down beside her. She reaches out to cup Rachel's cheek, gently turning her face towards her. "I'm ready whenever you are."

For a moment, Quinn suspects that Rachel is going to question that statement—offer her another chance to back out—but instead, her lips curve into an almost feral grin. "In that case," she purrs, summoning that stamina that she'd only just boasted about to roll Quinn onto her back and pin her to the mattress, "I do believe it's my turn to take care of _you_."

Her mouth captures Quinn's in a heated kiss, and Quinn easily surrenders herself to it, letting her pleasant buzz of arousal catch fire. Rachel really is very skilled at stoking it, gliding her fingertips over Quinn's breasts, her nipples, her belly and hips while her mouth trails a heated path over her skin. For a ridiculous moment, Quinn imagines that she's going to forget about the strap-on entirely, but then Rachel pauses before she reaches the heart of her, once again questioning. "Are you really sure you want to do this, baby?"

Quinn's stomach clenches mildly, but she nods. "I trust you," she repeats doggedly, holding that deep, dark gaze with all the love and trust that she can convey until Rachel seems to find what she needs in Quinn's eyes. It's only then that she slips off the bed to retrieve the strap-on from the dresser. Quinn takes a deep breath and wills herself to stay relaxed, knowing that Rachel would never do anything to hurt her.

Her anxiety spikes for a frustrating moment when Rachel moves to slip on the harness, but it gradually ebbs away as she watches Rachel stumble on her first attempt to step into it. The most adorable expression of frustration appears on her face as she awkwardly struggles to put it on and then fusses with the twisted straps. It's the furthest thing from smooth or sexy that Quinn has ever witnessed (which is exactly why she'd done this part for the first time in the privacy of the bathroom), and her lips quirk with amusement as she raises herself up on her elbows. "Problem?"

Rachel huffs, frowning at Quinn. "Why does this look so much easier when you do it?"

Quinn bites back her smile. "It's velcro, sweetie. It doesn't get much easier than that."

Rachel's cheeks pinken. "But it's…" She huffs, frowning down at the strap-on in consternation. "It's not exactly the most comfortable thing I've ever worn."

Quinn laughs, shaking her head. "Now you know why I wanted the one that looked like underwear."

"Well, it's a bit late to rectify that now," Rachel grumbles, gesturing to herself and the still ill-fitting harness.

Still chuckling, Quinn shuffles over to sit on the edge of the mattress. "Come here," she commands, crooking her finger at Rachel until she takes a few steps forward. The moment she's within touching distance, Quinn curls her fingers under the too-loose straps of the harness and tugs until her girlfriend is standing right in front of her. "You need to adjust these too," she explains, doing her best to ignore the blue dildo jutting out at her while she shortens the straps around Rachel's legs. A wry grin curves her lips as she glances up at Rachel. "Your hips and thighs are smaller than mine." Not to mention her ass. Quinn repositions the harness a bit lower around Rachel's waist and then gives the straps at her legs another minor adjustment before tightening the elastic on the sides of the belt. "There. How's that?"

"Oh," Rachel breathes, glancing down at the strap-on with a goofy grin. "That's so much better," she murmurs, wrapping her hand around the dildo and and giving it a firm stroke. She hums in appreciation at whatever sensation she's feeling before giving Quinn her best sexy smoulder. "I'm so hard for you, baby."

Quinn rolls her eyes, smiling. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm a stud," Rachel argues, striking a pose with her hands behind her head and gyrating her hips. "I mean, look at me. I can go all night." And then she attempts to twerk.

The vision of Rachel in nothing but a strap-on, doing that comical little dance, is enough to have Quinn falling back against the mattress in laughter. "Oh, my God," she gasps, throwing an arm across her eyes. "You need to stop."

Giggling, Rachel crawls onto the bed beside Quinn and tugs her arm away. "Baby, I'm just getting started."

Quinn turns to look at her, still laughing. "Just don't do that dance again."

"I was practicing my moves," Rachel defends with a cheeky grin.

"If the move was to make me laugh, then you nailed it." And it seems fairly obvious that was exactly what Rachel had intended.

Rachel's grin turns into a sexy smirk.. "I'd much rather nail _you_."

Quinn groans. "You did _not_ just say that."

"You can hardly blame me for taking the opportunities given to me, Quinn," Rachel teases, curling an arm around her hip and pulling her close enough to feel the dildo pressing into her thigh. "And you did give me this particular opportunity as an anniversary gift."

"So I did," Quinn concedes just before Rachel leans in to brush her mouth over Quinn's parted lips in a brief kiss.

"You can still change your mind at any point," Rachel reminds her one more time. "I won't be upset."

Quinn smiles at her. "I know."

It only makes her more determined to see this through.

Rachel's smile is tender and her eyes sparkle with adoration when she whispers, "I love you," and then she kisses Quinn again with the clear intent to continue this with a far more serious form of foreplay. Her kisses grow more ardent and her touch more purposeful, and Quinn does her best to block out the presence of the strap-on and focus on the feel of Rachel's mouth and hands on her body.

It really shouldn't be a surprise to Quinn that _Rachel_ mostly ignores the strap-on too, methodically using her fingers and tongue to urge Quinn back into a haze of arousal. She did promise to take care of her, and God—she's doing such an amazing job of it.

She always does.

Quinn moans in pleasure, feeling the familiar heat rush through her veins and build in her stomach as Rachel determinedly brings her closer and closer to climax. She's doing that thing with her tongue again, curling it in the way that sends currents of electricity racing through every one of Quinn's nerve endings. Quinn twists her fingers into the sheets and her back arches as she quivers on the edge of ecstasy, thinking for a breathless moment that Rachel might push her over just like this.

But then—she doesn't.

She abruptly pulls away with a devilish smirk, leaving Quinn aching with frustrated need and whimpering in disappointment.

Rachel sits back on her haunches, still grinning. "I think you're ready."

Quinn almost wants to cry—because she's so fucking ready it _hurts_. "Fuck you, Rachel," she growls, glaring at her far too smug girlfriend.

Rachel nods. "Yes, you can." And then she completely confuses Quinn's senses by flopping down onto the mattress next to her, spread eagle on her back with the strap-on jutting up above her hips. "At your leisure, baby."

It takes a moment for Quinn to catch her breath and calm herself down—she was so incredibly close to release, and her body is still pulsing with desire—but her brain finally re-engages enough for her to realize what Rachel is doing. "You're giving me control."

"Do you not want it?" Rachel questions, looking genuinely confused by the possibility.

Quinn bites into the corner of her lip as she gazes at Rachel, falling even more in love with her in that moment—despite the fact that she'd just deprived her of what could have been an amazing orgasm. "I love you," is her only answer.

Rachel smiles in relief when Quinn moves to straddle her thighs, but it only lasts a moment before her smile wavers. "Wait," she cautions, a look of pure determination on her face as she scrambles to reach for the drawer of the nightstand—a feat that she can't quite accomplish with Quinn on top of her. A little chuckle escaped Quinn despite her current state of sexual frustration, knowing exactly what Rachel is after, and she easily leans over to tug open the drawer and snag the lube they keep there for just these occasions.

As aroused as she is right now, Quinn knows that she'll need this too if she's going to take that dildo inside of her. The thought leeches away some of her arousal, though Rachel has done more than enough to keep her intent on finishing this. She might not be teetering on the brink of orgasm anymore, but her body is still screaming at her for some kind of completion, and she's damn well going to try to find it at the end of that strap-on, especially when it's attached to the gorgeous, sexy, incredibly _loving_ woman beneath her.

"Here, let me," Rachel urges, reaching for the lube. Quinn hands it over willingly, relieved that she won't have to do this part. It's entirely unsexy in her opinion, and she's already on the verge of losing her momentum, but she focuses on the enticing way that Rachel bites her lip in concentration and the rise of her breasts and the heat of her skin where Quinn is touching it. Really, in this position, she could just grind down on Rachel's thigh and get herself off with very little effort.

But then Rachel tosses the tube away, reaching out to stroke her slick fingers through Quinn's folds—giving her that extra bit of lubrication. Quinn moans at the contact, her hips jerking involuntarily, and Rachel gazes up at her with an uncertain smile. "Last chance to back out."

She really is the best girlfriend ever, and Quinn bends down to show her appreciation with a kiss, whispering, "We're doing this," against her lips before she sits up again.

Rachel's smile turns eager, and her hands settle on Quinn's hips, thumbs stroking the skin there as she gazes up at Quinn with desire. "Tell me what you need, baby."

A trickle of nervousness shimmers through Quinn once again, but she ignores it. "Just...don't move until I tell you to." She's suddenly very glad that Rachel had decided to let her be in control of this experience because she's pretty sure that she'd be tensing up even more right now if she was on her back and blindly waiting for Rachel to make her first (undoubtedly clumsy) move. Her eyes drop down to the blue dildo, glistening with lube, and she draws in a fortifying breath before she takes the plunge.

Pushing up on her knees, Quinn shifts up Rachel's body and positions herself over the strap-on. She can feel the poke of the silicone against her thigh as she moves, and she reaches down to guide it to her entrance before she very slowly sinks down onto it.

Her body stretches around the toy more easily than she'd feared it would, but it still feels fucking weird—invasive and uncomfortable. Beneath her, Rachel moans, her eyes glazing over as she watches Quinn take in the toy, and Quinn wishes that this was arousing her even half as much as it so obviously is Rachel.

She can see the moment Rachel realizes that it isn't. The haze of arousal instantly clears from her eyes, replaced by concern. "Quinn? Baby? Are you okay? Is it too much? Do you want to stop? Should I...?"

Quinn cuts her last rapid-fire question short with a palm pressed to her lips, and she leans forward to stare into wide, worried eyes. "Rachel. Stop talking," she commands, waiting a few breaths longer to pull her hand away. The change in angle has the toy pressing against her inner walls, stretching her even more, and she doesn't exactly love the foreign sensation. "Just...give me a minute."

Rachel nods, hands still anchored on Quinn's hips. "Take all the time you need, baby. I love you so much for even trying this."

Reassured, Quinn carefully sits back again, feeling the pressure inside her ease just a little, and she braces her hands against Rachel's stomach and takes the minute that she'd asked for to get used to the unfamiliar fullness inside of her. She might actually take two. The pure oddness of having it there gradually begins to lessen. It's still kind of uncomfortable but not really painful, so it's already better than her memory of Puck.

"Okay," she eventually whispers, relaxing enough to feel a bit more confident about continuing this. She takes a deep breath and moves her hips in tiny increments, experimenting with the way it feels to have the toy inside of her. She's not exactly getting much pleasure from it, but the bit of friction near her entrance isn't terrible, and she thinks there could be some potential there. "It's...okay," she decides with a slight nod as she begins to rock her hips a little more, changing the depth and angle in an attempt to find a spot that feels good. Rachel's fingers dig into her skin, and Quinn seeks out her eyes, finding them dark and unfocused once again. The look of unadulterated desire on her face sends a tingle of heat racing to Quinn's belly. "You can move now," she allows, belatedly realizing that she hadn't actually made that clear yet.

Rachel moans quietly, licking her lips as she continues to watch Quinn. "This is...actually...surprisingly stimulating." Her gaze drops down to where the dildo is buried inside of Quinn, and she moans again before an urgent, barely audible, "Just like this," is whispered in awe.

"Rachel," Quinn says with a trace of humor, impressed that her girlfriend is obviously getting off just from the visual, but, "I kind of need you to be touching me." She really doubts that this is going to work for her otherwise.

"Oh...yeah," Rachel breathes out distractly, her expression turning even hungrier. "I can do that."

And her hands immediately move from Quinn's hips—the left gliding up to caress Quinn's breast while the right seeks out the spot she seems to be most fascinated with right now, fingers slipping into Quinn's folds to feel the slide of the dildo into her body. Her fingertips brush Quinn's clit without purpose, but it's enough to pull an appreciative moan from her.

"Oh, God. This is so hot," Rachel groans, seemingly unable to tear her eyes away from Quinn. The fact that she's obviously so turned on by this works to amplify Quinn's arousal, making it so much easier to forget about the uncomfortable parts of this and focus on the part that's working for her.

It's no surprise to her that she's not getting anything from the deeper penetration except a lingering sense of discomfort at having a foregn object inside of her, but if she moves in just the right way, the extra pressure of the toy down near her g-spot actually feels pretty good. And she's never going to have a problem with being on top of Rachel this way. Like Rachel, she finds the visual alone to be so fucking sexy—tanned skin glistening with perspiration and hair wildly spread across the sheet and those eyes so dark with arousal.

Still, Quinn instinctively knows it isn't going to be enough to get her where she wants to be.

"I need more," she whines, planting her palms on either side of Rachel and curling forward in search of a better angle, but the orgasm she'd been so close to earlier remains frustratingly out of her reach.

It's enough to finally shake Rachel out of her (mostly) passive fascination with having Quinn ride her. "I can do more," she vows a little breathlessly, arching up off the mattress in search of Quinn's mouth. Quinn lets her have it, indulging in a wanton kiss that sends sparks of electricity zinging through her blood.

Rachel drags her mouth away from Quinn's lips, falling back against the mattress with renewed determination in her eyes, and her hips seem to finally catch Quinn's rhythm, rolling just enough to add some extra friction, though Quinn suspects that it's probably for her own benefit more than Quinn's. But more importantly, those wonderful fingers of hers finally zero in on Quinn's clit, drawing little circles on the hardened nub in time with the canting of her hips. It's exactly what Quinn has been needing, and she moans in approval.

"God, yes. Keep doing that," she practically begs, feeling her body start to edge closer to climax once again.

"Mmm. You like that, don't you, baby?" Rachel purrs, dragging a thumb over Quinn's nipple while continuing to stroke the bundle of nerves between her legs.

Quinn does, but, "Less talking. More getting me off," she demands, curling her fingers into the sheets while she concentrates on keeping her movements shallow enough to rub against that one spot that actually feels good. She can feel the beads of perspiration trickling down her neck and between her breasts from the sheer effort she's putting into this. Biting her lip, she stares into Rachel's eyes, letting the sight of her and the heat of her body and the press of her fingers overwhelm her senses.

It's almost enough.

Almost.

"Almost," she gasps, still needing something _more_.

Rachel changes her pace then, brushing Quinn's clit with her thumb at a maddening tempo until tendrils of pleasure begin to unfurl in her belly. "Come for me," she commands huskily, voice dripping with lust.

And with one more perfect stroke of her thumb, Quinn's body blessedly obeys.

She throws her head back on a throaty moan as her orgasm washes over her, her body clenching around the dildo. The strangeness of it does more to dampen the intensity of her climax than heighten it, but she's just so fucking relieved to get there at all, and she collapses on top of Rachel with a groan, carefully detaching her body from the strap-on before she goes completely limp.

She feels Rachel's arms encircle her back and the press of lips against her temple. "That was so sexy."

Quinn laughs weakly. "That was a hot mess." She lifts her head to look at Rachel, seeing the dazed grin and dark, dilated eyes. "And you didn't even come with me."

"I got what I needed," Rachel assures her, grin widening. "Watching you was…" The sentence trails off without an actual ending, but Rachel's expression says it all. She reaches up to brush Quinn's hair away from her damp forehead. "Thank you for my gift, Quinn. I really, really liked it."

Quinn laughs again. "Even though it was just sex?"

"But it wasn't,' Rachel instantly argues. "You gave me _you_...being completely vulnerable for me," she points out in wonder, stroking Quinn's cheek tenderly. "It was so beautiful. And I am so very in love with you."

And that makes the entire experience worth it to Quinn—because the _strap-on_ portion of it isn't something she's all that eager to repeat. "I love you too. But I don't think we'll be doing this again." Rachel's smile slips just enough to advertise her disappointment, so Quinn relents just a little bit. "At least not for a really long time." Maybe on some other special occasion in the distant future.

She thinks she can understand why Rachel enjoys it so much. Her girlfriend actually likes penetration, and Quinn imagines that would make a world of difference in this particular endeavor. She certainly understands the appeal of _wearing_ it, but she'd had to work far too hard for it to feel good (and what _had_ felt good had mostly been Rachel's hands) for her to want to make this any kind of regular occurrence.

Beneath her, Rachel sighs, nodding her acceptance. "I can live with that." A trace of worry creeps into her expression. "Just to clarify, you'll still be wearing it for me, right?"

"Oh, absolutely." In fact, Quinn thinks she might have even gained a new appreciation for it after this experience.

Rachel gazes at Quinn with those dark, hungry eyes. "Could you maybe…?" She licks her lips before biting them coquettishly.

Quinn gets the hint pretty quickly. "You want me to wear it tonight."

"Well, you did intend this to be my anniversary gift," Rachel reminds her needlessly. "I think I should get to enjoy it to the fullest." Her fingers dance over Quinn's shoulders, and her lips curve into a sexy smirk. "And so should you."

Quinn mirrors her smirk. "Just so we're clear, it's _you_ I'll be enjoying to the fullest."

"Then I guess you should get on that," Rachel prompts, trailing her fingers down to play at the sides of Quinn's breasts where they're so nicely pressed against hers. "After all, it's my job to make sure you're getting everything you can out of this arrangement of ours."

"Oh, I am, sweetheart. I'm getting _you_." Quinn gazes down at the amazing woman beneath her, feeling so incredibly lucky to be loved by her. "And you...are _everything_."

And right now, Quinn has _everything_ that she'll ever need.


End file.
